


Moonlight Sonata

by Bianca MarOu (glazedmacguffin)



Series: Unaccounted For: Tales of Lore [3]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-07 08:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glazedmacguffin/pseuds/Bianca%20MarOu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A musician at a deep space station encounters a mystery man who's both horrifying and fascinating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight Sonata

The "Deep Space" stations weren't renowned for a lot of activity. In the interstellar void or at the very edges of Federation space, usually only passing exploratory vessels and vagrants passed through these starbases to restock supplies.

It was near the Qualor II surplus depot, so at least the food was somewhat decent. The music was inevitably horrible. Not that the woman performing wasn't skilled, mind you, but most of the requests were made by an especially petulant Ferengi named Omag, who had little taste and the uncanny ability to demand a song until the passion had drained from the singer.

"Again!" he called out in a crass voice at Amarie. He was at his usual table, attended by two vapid women as per normal, and was using the typical habits. The singer scowled unhappily, whiskers twitching as she proceeded to start another repeat of the song. He would probably be more relentless than ever, pride wounded by the Starfleet officer who had harassed him for information. It was very out of Federation manners, but it had been so wonderful to watch. Especially as he was a roguishly handsome and talented gentlemen. He could have used more arms, but she knew when to appreciate the two armed sort.

"Anything but that!" another voice finally piped up. His back remained turned to her, facing the bar and hunched over a drink. She looked toward this man, catching a hint of pale skin, but mostly dark hair and even darker clothes.

"Anything but that..." he repeated, more softly as he took a drink of whatever it was that he had. It was in a fluted glass, pale, clear, and bubbly.

"Who do you think you are! I'm a regular!" Omag spat at the stranger.

"I'm a paying customer, like anyone else." The gentleman put his glass down with a satisfied sigh, pleased by whatever it was he was drinking even if put off by the Ferengi. Honestly, Amarie could deal with this man being a regular. People rarely stood up to Omag, and she guessed he was a hair away from bringing security with him when he came in to eat.

"You're not here every day! You don't know how this place works. And you better learn some manners before-"

"Before what?" The stranger had a dispassionate tone. Then, nonchalantly, veered completely off topic. "You know, I always had an appreciation for lounge music. You wouldn't think it would be that endearing. But put it with the right voice? Magnificent. It can lull a person to the depths of melancholy and make every event around it all the richer. Of course, you have to have the right person singing it."

"No one is interested!" Omag was clearly losing his patience. "Amarie! Keep playing!"

"I think I want _him_ to choose the next song..." She canted her head toward the bar.

"Him? He'll be gone before the hour's up, I'll see to that..."

"How do you figure that?" the stranger asked. Still not bothering with so much as a second glance, and pushing his now empty glass across the bar to the bartender. He tapped the rim with a pale finger. It made Amarie grin, and she wiggled her hefty weight in her seat slightly as she shifted to sit up a little straighter. They looked like talented hands. She always appreciated good hands.

"I'll go have someone kick you out, that's what I'll do. I'm the longest standing customer. I've practically paid off the mortgage to this place. They won't refuse me."

"No one can throw me out," he said flatly, retrieving his new drink, this one a pinker hue. He sniffed it lightly before taking his next drink, appreciating all the aspects of the beverage. "I love champagne." It was an idle remark to the bartender. "You can never find it anymore, though. Not without synthehol. It does make it taste differently..."

When the bartender chuckled agreement, Omag seemed to take offense. Just as much offense as he was having at being ignored.

"You!" he stood up from his place. "What makes you think you're so important I can't have you removed."

"Because I'm _better_ than you." The pale man sat up a bit straighter, even if he didn't actually turn from his place. He rolled his shoulders, posture stiffening up a little as he raised his chin.

"You're just rude, and lack respect! Do you know who I am?!" he stood from his chair so fast it nearly teetered back on its legs.

"I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant."

Despite the impressive determination he had been presenting, there was something to the stranger a little chilling now. Amarie kept quiet, eyes darting between him and the Ferengi, not even knowing what race the mysterious man was. Just that he spoke with confidence, and for being new he had every belief that he was better, superior, to anything that Omag could throw at him.

It was at least enough to finally make Omag hesitate. He rubbed his fingers together in a nervous gesture, the way that Ferengi fondled latinum they were uncertain they could keep.

"Yes well-"

"Shut up and sit down," he ordered. "And ma'am, do you know any Earth songs?"

"N-not many."

She hadn't realized she'd become afraid. A bit surprised at herself, she rested her hand against her bountiful chest, eyes wide and whisker's twitching. Yes, this man had made her apprehensive. The two still resting against the keyboard had sweaty palms.

He finally turned in his seat, coaxed perhaps by the waver in her voice, or the insinuation she wouldn't know what to play for him.

At first, she was struck with his gold eyes. They caught even the dimmest of light and magnified it. His skin wasn't just pale, it was luminescent. It was no color she'd ever seen on a hominid, but rather in the cavernous depths of Risa when one of her ex-husbands took her to see the underground gardens. He was like the faintly glowing orchid petals that drew the curled-antennae firemoth. The fact he was wearing a black tunic with a high collar, matching slacks and shining black boots made his hands and face stand out all the more.

He stood up, and it wasn't until he'd strolled over to her station that she realized she'd been staring. His smile was abrupt, shocking in its intensity.

"Move over a little," he said, indicating her seat with a nod of his head.

She did so willingly, not wanting to upset him. There was something a little horrifying and enticing in having him sit by her. Like having some beautifully colored and monstrous sea-serpent swim by on a sunny beach. You could barely resist the urge to touch, yet you were fairly certain for it's striking beauty that it was lethally poisonous.

He sat and raised his hands, making a show of wriggling his fingers as he took a deep breath. He raised his chin, and started to play.

She didn't know the song, but it was simple. Chilling, though, when played by him. Slow, and growing in intensity gradually. His fingers roamed the keys with expertise, morso than that of the Starfleet officer she'd been recalling.

There were others in the bar, but they'd gradually gone quiet. Even those with no taste for human music. If it wasn't out of awe, it was the sense of impending doom that every note, every strike of the key left.

She had to remember to breathe, having held herself still, as if avoiding the attention of some massive predator. "W-what is that?" she stammered, voice barely above a whisper, not wishing to interrupt him.

"It's called Moonlight Sonata... By a man named 'Beethoven'," he explained simply. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then he looked at her, out of the corner of his vision, and that abrupt grin returned. It made those striking eyes crinkle at the edges, and he simply continued to play. Continuing until the quiet was sickening, and even the Omag had slinked down into his chair.

Finishing the last few, dark notes, the man stood up and left the seat, allowing Amarie a moment to harness her pounding heart. Two of her hands held at her midsection, while the other two were affixed, white-knuckled, to the seat beneath her. As if something devastating might happen should she let go.

He returned to the bar, and placed a few strips of latinum on the bartop for the now silent server. "Keep the change."

She kept silent... the whole room kept silent... as he walked toward the door. He tugged at the hem of his tunic, straightening it as he exited. And it wasn't until he was gone and Omag could hear another shuttle leaving that he actually sighed in relief.

"Amarie! Get to playing!" He shouted.

The woman placed her hands on the keys, and looked up at the Ferengi.

Down at her fingers.

And started to play, note for note, the song she had just heard.

**Author's Note:**

> Amarie was the multi-armed woman depicted in the episode "Unification", as was Omag.


End file.
